Moments
by SoulofChibs
Summary: Life is a series of moments that you breathe through, unless they take your breath away.  These are those moments for the Winchester brothers.  WINCEST warning, don't like it, don't read it.
1. Chapter 1

Moments

**Summary: Life is a series of moments that you breathe through, unless they take your breath away. These are those moments for the Winchester brothers.**

**Disclaimer: I wish, but no, I don't own the characters of Supernatural**

**WINCEST Warning: (at some point because I am disturbed that way**)

**Please take the time to review if you are reading. **

OOOOooooOOOO

_The moment Dean realizes it's his job to protect his little brother_ (Dean is four, Sam is 6 months old)

Dean Winchester was a good boy and he loves his parents very much. So, when they put him to bed, he stayed there. Dean lay in his 'big boy' bed and listened to the settling noises in their old house, trying to make himself fall asleep, because he was a good boy, not naughty and not going to get up just because he heard a creaking sound that wasn't familiar. He hugged his teddy bear closer to himself and rolled to his side, his eyes flicking to the dimly lit hallway.

He lay there waiting for sleep to claim him, idly thinking of when his baby brother was bigger, he was gonna teach him how to throw a ball just like him, and Dean thought about how cool it was that he was always going to be the big brother, he liked the sound of that.

His saw his mother ghost past his open bedroom door, and in his state of near sleep, he thought she looked like an angel. With golden blonde hair, and a flowing white gown, she was walking quietly towards Sam's nursery, her footsteps barely a whisper along the carpet. Dean loved his mother, and wanted to get out of bed and follow her, but he was a good boy and so he stayed where he was.

He might have drifted off at some point, but it felt like the next moment when he is jerked awake by a strange smell, a bad omen like feeling clenching in his belly, a silent scream of something wrong instinctively shrieking in his mind, and despite the fact he is a good boy, he gets out of the bed, walking the path of the hallway like his mother had done only moments before.

Bursts of orange flames explode onto the ceiling directly in front of Sammy's nursery and Dean stops, frozen by fear in his tracks. Smoke is billowing out of the room and the fire is sucking the breath out of Dean's lungs faster than he can replace it.

His father's anguished voice somehow pierces through the whooshing sounds of the fire, screaming for his wife. Dean doesn't know what is happening, but words like danger, fire, family, are tumbling around his brain, trying to take hold. He barely registers his father standing in front of him with Sam in his arms.

Dean tries to focus on his father, because his father is yelling at him, his handsome face streaked with soot, sweat and tears, the ghost of his despair and heartbreak already taking up permanent residence in his features. His father reaches one hand out, shakes Dean's shoulder and says, "Dean, take your brother, NOW."

As if someone else were working his limbs like a puppet master, Dean put out his arms and the bundle of his brother is placed into them. He looks down into a pink face, and tries to catch his father's eye again, but strong hands are pushing him towards the stairs.

With Sam in his arms, Dean can suddenly be unfrozen, suddenly think, and he runs towards the stairs, not holding the railing as he flings himself and his brother down, although he is a good boy and always holds the railing on the stairs.

He doesn't remember getting the front door open, he is not allowed to open it usually, but his heart leaps that he did it all by himself and he races forward onto the lawn.

He sucks in lungfuls of fresh air greedily, clutching his brother to his chest as he falls to the grass. He turns and watches in horror and fascination as his house is almost completely engulfed in fire, the flames licking the sides of the upstairs windows, caressing the painted wood like a lover, as the sound of exploding windows fills the night air.

It seems like several minutes, but its only seconds that his father is running towards them, shouting GET DOWN as he covers his sons with his own body, shielding them as their home explodes from the pressure built up by the flames.

An hour later, Dean sits wrapped in an itchy gray army blanket, still grasping his baby brother in his arms, his no longer innocent eyes tracking every movement of his father as John speaks to the fire department.

Sam starts to squirm and Dean looks down at his baby brother, the wide hazel green eyes, almost too aware for a baby catching and locking with Dean's own, a small fist reaching towards him. Dean bends his head in, breathing deep and puts in his own forehead against Sam's.

"Its OK Sammy, we're OK, I am never going to let anything happen to you. I'm your big brother, always gonna protect you no matter what."

OOOOooooOOOO

_This is the moment that Sam realizes he has the best big brother in the whole world_ (Dean is 8, Sam is 4)

They are in another nameless town, possibly outside of New Mexico if he heard his Daddy right, in another creepy dirty motel room.

Sam is on the worn carpet sitting crossed legged, a pile of worn legos surrounding him as he scrunches up his face, thinking hard about what he is going to build. He looks over at his big brother, sprawled on one of the beds, and finds himself smiling. Dean always looks so serious when he studies, frowning like his head hurt, while he did his 'rithmetic. (Sam doesn't know what this is, but Dean does it, so Sam can't wait until he can do it too).

Dean taps his pencil and his lips pull down in a frown and then he looks up to find Sam watching him.

"Whats up Squirt?" Sam doesn't mind so much that Dean calls him nicknames, because Dean is his older brother and always watches out for him. But, he is the little brother, so if he didn't pout about it, he wouldn't be doing his job .

"Don' call me that De," he says and looks back down at his legos, hoping his brother doesn't think he is a baby.

Dean moves to the end of the bed, dirty sneakers dangling off the end of his feet as he scoots closer to see what Sam is up to.

"Whats the matter, Sammy, you can't think of what to make with your legos?"

Sam isn't sure if that is what he is thinking, but yes, he guesses that is what is making him upset, so he nods looking down at the pile of faded plastic, wishing he could build a tall building, or maybe an airplane.

He mumbles to himself, "Wish I had more black ones, I could build the car." Sam's world is small, his brother, his father, the car, and random faces and places that he will never recall past the age of 10.

He hears Dean moving, but doesn't realize what he is up to until his brother suddenly is sitting crosslegged across from him, picking up a piece of lego.

"Well, how about we build the car, but give her a killer paint job Sammy, even better than black. There's a lot of blue and red pieces, we can make her the USA car,"cause that's the colors of the flag and all."

Dean grabbed more pieces, fitting them together with a click, and completely missed the beaming smile from his little brother. Nothing made Sam happier than Dean playing with him, nothing.

Sam got to work too, and while Dean created a semblance of a blue and red Impala, Sam built a garage for them to keep her in. They worked in silence, brothers so used to the other that they didn't need a lot of words to fill up the air.

Dean finished first and held the lego Impala up in front of his eyes, inspecting it for flaws.

"Whaddya think Sammy?" He looked over at his little brother, and saw Sam's eyes light up when he looked at Dean's finished work.

"Looks good, Dean," Sam replied, and held out his nearly finished garage for Dean to see. He loved the way Dean smiled when he spoke next.

"That's awesome Sammy, now she has a place to sleep when we aren't driving her around everywhere." Sam giggled at the idea of the Impala needing to nap, delighted with Dean's story, as Dean weaved a tale of the Impala being a superhero, and the garage Sam had built her was her "lair".

For the next long while, they just played and played, and Sam didn't know why, but he knew this was special. This moment, this time with his brother.

If you had asked him then, he would have said it could not have been more perfect, but he would have been proved wrong minutes later.

As Dean and Sam both winded the game down, neither able to think of anymore adventures for the Super Impala, there giggles subsiding, Sam's stomach let out a huge growl, and Dean laughed.

Sam looked down, not wanting to admit that he was hungry, even at four years old, he understood they didn't have much food, and he shouldn't ask for anything. As it was, he had eaten the candy bar that Dad had bought him before leaving to go do some research at the local library.

He fiddled with a piece of lego absently, wishing he hadn't eaten the whole chocolate bar at once, when suddenly he saw Dean's outstretched hand. In it was a peanut butter cup.

"Here ya go Sammy," Dean said with a small grin at his brother.

Sam shook his head, he didn't want to take what was Dean's, but Dean pushed it at him more insistently and said, "Really, just take it, I am full already."

And at four years old, Sam knew that was a lie, because they were NEVER full, or at least not often enough, but he took it from his brother's hand because he could see Dean really wanted him too.

Sam knew at four what he would know for the rest of his life. Dean was the best big brother in the whole world.

OOOOooooOOOO

I have never written weechesters, so I hope this doesn't suck If it does, and you want to tell me so, be gentle


	2. Chapter 2

Moments Chapter 2

**Summary: Life is a series of moments that you breathe through, unless they take your breath away. These are those moments for the Winchester brothers.**

**Disclaimer: I wish, but no, I don't own the characters of Supernatural**

**WINCEST Warning: (at some point because I am disturbed that way**)

**Please take the time to review if you are reading. **

_The moment Dean realizes he will always, ALWAYS put Sam first. (Dean is 14, Sam is 10)_

Dean Winchester, despite being in the school for three weeks and 4 days, is considered cool. Dean has a way about him, a casual confidence that came from years of training to fight things that no one knew existed, a maturity that he exudes because he raised his little brother on his own pretty much, and a smart mouth that although got him into trouble at times, when paired with his ever growing good looks, made people look at him funny, like they weren't sure whether to kiss him or kick his ass.

He also has a fake ID, has drank beer, can drive a car, and had sex (although it was quick, and messy and a bit sweaty). So, at fourteen, that pretty much makes him a God to his peers.

Dean has no gumption using what he has to make his and his brother's life a bit easier, whether it be for an extra order of fries he doesn't have to pay for, because the counter girl was too busy flirting with him to remember to charge for them, or sweet talking his way into a pool hall so he could hustle a few dollars and take Sam to the movies. Dean does what he has to, and he never misses a beat.

The prettiest girl in his class, Kayla Peters, has been finding a lot of excuses to talk to him and seems to be hanging around him a lot, and Dean doesn't mind, because she is kinda hot and smells nice and when she brushed her hand against him a time or two, her skin was really soft. He could easily picture getting sweaty, and messy and quick with her.

So, Kayla had followed Dean after school, as he had walked across the street from his school, to wait for his brother. Dean never let Sam walk home alone.

Kayla was talking to him and Dean was trying to listen, but his eyes were scanning for his brother in the crowd of little kids pouring out the front of the elementary school doors. He heard her ask if he wanted to come over, and he had absently replied that he had to pick up his brother.

If he had been looking at her, he probably would have seen her pretty mouth tighten and her eyes flash, because Kayla Peters was popular and most boys WANTED to come to her house and it was aggravating her that Dean seemed to like her, but then paid more attention to his little brother.

As she stood there deciding whether she should accidentally brush herself against him so he could feel her breasts against his arm, Dean lifts his hand and says, "Sammy, over here."

Kayla turns to follow Dean's gaze as a small, skinny boy with dark hair and dimples came running up to Dean, smiling widely at his brother. Kayla doesn't like being second to ANYONE, least of all, someone's little brother.

Dean asks his brother how school was and his brother shows him a spelling test in which he had got an A+ and Dean hoots and gives the kid a hi five UP HIGH and then ruffles the kids hair.

If Kayla Peters had a brain in her pretty head, she probably would have realized that what she said next was one of the few things anyone could say to really make Dean hate them.

The little brother is looking at her curiously and she hears Dean introduce her to the kid, and she finds out his name is Sam.

Kayla shifted her weight closer to Dean, and looks down at the small boy and says, "Wow Sam, I would have never guessed you were related to Dean, I mean, he is so handsome, you don't look anything like him."

Yeah, Kayla Peters may be pretty, but she is an idiot.

Sam's face had crumpled a bit at her comment, he didn't like the idea he wasn't going to be JUST LIKE DEAN when he got bigger. That look on his face is all Dean needed to see, right before he saw red.

He turned to Kayla and in a voice that sounded like ice being chipped off a glacier, a voice that as an adult would still make her shiver, Dean had spoken.

"Don't talk to my brother like that, you stupid bitch."

Kayla registered surprise, because she was popular, no one ever talked to her that way, and she sputtered, "What did you call me?"

Dean's green eyes flashed fire as they met hers. The expression on his face was a mixture of anger and disgust.

"I called you a stupid bitch, because no one talks to Sam that way. Sam's a Winchester, smartest fucking kid on the planet, and of COURSE he will be a good looking dude when he grows up. And when he does, he won't make time for bitchy, slutty girls like you, who throw themselves at guys they don't know and then insult their family. So, why don't you go fuck yourself, Kayla."

With that, Dean had grabbed Sam and pulled him along the sidewalk, never sparing a glance back. Kayla had stood there for a moment, lip quivering, breasts heaving in anger, before turning on her heel and walking in the opposite direction.

Dean and Sam walk along the sidewalk and Sam isn't talking, which is unusual so Dean knows the kid is upset. He throws his arm around Sam's shoulder and pulls him closer to him until their hips are bumping.

Dean makes his tone, careless and light. "Don't worry about that chick, Sammy. Girls like that, dime a dozen, but brother's man, we always stick together."

Sam had glanced up at him then through his heavy bangs, hazel eyes considering Dean's words and finally, smiled a little and hip checked his brother. "Kay Dean," he answered, thrilled inwardly the way that Dean, Dean who was so cool, and so awesome, always made him feel good about himself.

Dean ruffled his brother's hair and broke away laughing and yelling over his shoulder, "Race ya Sammy, last one home has to do the dishes," and with that, they were off, Dean's stride long and easy, Sam pumping his legs furiously as he tried to catch up.

Dean would let Sam win, no matter how obvious it was that he was throwing the foot race. It was Sam, and Sam was the most important thing to Dean.

OOOOooooOOOO

_The moment Sam realizes that Dean is beautiful (Sam is 13, Dean is 17)_

Sam has been sitting on the same patch of grass for what seems like forever and he is annoyed, as most 13 year olds are. His brother has told him NOT TO MOVE in his bossy older brother voice, so of course, all Sam wants to do is get up.

Dean is helping his Dad on a hunt, but has left Sam in a clearing because Sam is too young and its too dangerous, and Sam thinks that is bullshit, because Dean was hunting already at his age. Dean is just over protective, overbearing and annoying.

Sam absently picks at a bug bite on his knee, because he is wearing shorts, even though Dean said he shouldn't, but it was hot out and Sam wore them anyhow. Dean acted like he knew EVERYTHING but he didn't. Of course, Sam admitted as he swatted at another mosquito attempting to make a meal on his bare flesh, Dean had probably been thinking more about bugs than temperature.

Sam knows he's smart, smarter than Dean in a lot of ways, so it kind of pisses him off that Dean can almost predict what will happen if he thinks Sam is making the wrong choice. Like tonight. Sam wanted to wear shorts, and Dean had said it was like offering up a bug buffet and Sam hadn't listened and now he had a bunch of bug bites, and petulantly, he kinda blamed Dean for that.

The woods are dark fringes around the clearing where Sam sits and he cocks his head trying to hear his Dad or more importantly, Dean. The moon is high in the sky, so despite the late hour, the shadowed clearing is lit up like the moon was a spotlight shining right on Sam.

At the moment Sam registers that it seemed as though a hush had fallen over the entire forest, he hears a swishing sound behind him, and before he has time to react, even turn around, he feels something dig into his back and he is flying, flying…towards the moon, he thinks dimly.

While still midair, Sam hears Dean's voice yelling, "Sammy," and Sam wants to answer, but he can't because he is still flying, well more like falling now. Sam hits the ground with a sickening thud, and thinks 'that can't be good' the moment before everything fades to black.

OOOOooooOOOO

Sam comes to in the back of the Impala, the rumbling of the car under his ass a comfort despite the pain he feels in his back. He realizes that he is in the back seat, and Dean is cradling him in his arms, murmuring to him.

"Gonna be OK Sammy, I promise, so sorry man, didn't realize there was more than one, so fucking stupid, should have known…" like that over and over again, and Sam wants to shush him, but can't find his voice.

Sam turns his head, seeing his Dad's stiff posture in the front seat as he raced along the blacktop, and Sam wondered numbly where they were going. He didn't have much time to put it into words, because his gaze fell on Dean then, and he was left speechless.

Later on in life, Sam will tell himself this moment wasn't a big as it seemed at the time, he was young, he was injured, he wasn't himself, but he never really believed his own lies.

Dean is leaning over Sam, his strong arms around Sam's still thin shoulders, and he is staring down at Sam, trying to assess the amount of damage the black dog had inflicted.

All Sam sees is Dean's eyes sparkling like emeralds in the low moonlight, searching his own for god knows what. He sees Dean's full lips mouthing words Sam can't understand at him. He sees Dean's hair, spiky and outlined by the passing moonlight, reminding Sam of that new age chick they had met who talked nonstop about auras or something. He sees the hard line of Dean's jaw, the slant of his cheekbones, and the only thing he can think, is what comes out of his mouth next.

"Dammit Dean, you are so beautiful."

Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Moments Chapter 3

**Summary: Life is a series of moments that you breathe through, unless they take your breath away. These are those moments for the Winchester brothers.**

**Disclaimer: I wish, but no, I don't own the characters of Supernatural**

**WINCEST Warning: (at some point because I am disturbed that way**)

**Please take the time to review if you are reading. **

_The moment Dean first really SAW Sam (Dean is 20, Sam is 16)_

They are staying in an older house, but it has running water and furniture, so even though he has to share a room with Sam, Dean doesn't mind so much. The house is in some disrepair, and his Dad had made a deal for free rent, if while they stayed there, they fixed the place up.

But now Dad was gone on a hunting trip, leaving them behind once again, with the precise command that they were NOT to do any repairs in the house until he returned, except for painting the walls.

The owner had picked the color, Dean thought it was ugly and boring, a sort of taupey beige. He hadn't had much interest in the painting at all, but for some reason Sam was excited to do it, so he sat back in the old faded armchair in the living room, and gave Sam the go ahead.

He watched his brother carefully as Sam went about the job, first spreading the drop cloth, then bending to pry open the first can of paint.

Sam had come into his own this year, filling out and growing into his huge hands and feet. He was an inch taller than Dean was himself, and Dean knew that Sam wasn't finished growing, and he felt a bit resentful that his baby brother was going to be somewhat taller than him.

Sam's chocolate hair was shaggy, falling in front of his hazel eyes more times than not, and he still had that huge grin punctuated by dimples that Dean had to admit were pretty cute. The baby fat had fallen from his face last year, leaving him with high cheekbones and a square jaw, all angles and lines.

He continued to watch as Sam, now having the paint can open and stirred, dumped the paint into the rolling pan. Sam spread the paint evenly in the pan, using the paint roller. He stood straight when it was done and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt yanking it up and off of him.

Dean was unprepared when the bolt of lust rose up in him at the sight of Sam stripping. What the fuck? Had he really just gone half way hard because his younger brother had removed his shirt in front of him?

He lowered his eyes hastily, mind working fast and mouth going dry. He was reeling, the feelings flooding through him too quick to process. Maybe he was coming down with something…or maybe he had been cursed somewhere along the line, like a slow working curse that had just now taken effect. Maybe he was going fucking insane, because even as he let the disgust and horror at his own thoughts seep into his consciousness, he was peeking up through his eyelashes to watch Sam again.

The constant training for the hunt had filled out Sam quicker than it would most lanky teens, although Sam was still slender, he had wide shoulders and his chest was defined, chiseled (and holy fuck had Dean just looked at Sam's chest and thought the word chiseled to himself?) Yeah….yeah he had. Sams stomach was a washboard, and there was a light line of hair under his belly button that disappeared into the front of his baggy jeans.

Dean caught himself looking at the outline of the possibility of where Sam's dick must be in those jeans and it was suddenly all too much for him. He launched himself out of the chair towards the kitchen, brushing impatiently past Sam and he heard a reproachful 'Dude' but he didn't slow down, because he was afraid he might slam Sam up against that wall and push his tongue down his brother's throat.

He braced himself on the kitchen counter, his eyes slamming shut as he willed his mind to stop thinking of Sam like that, and willed his dick to go limp. It was his brother, his fucking BABY brother, and it was sick and twisted to feel anything like that for Sam. Dean didn't like men, he was a man whore, loved chicks. He wasn't gay…was he?

He shook his head slowly, trying to get rid of the thought that was now circling his brain like water going down a drain. Not gay. He had never been attracted to another man, he knew that was true. He had never thought of another man sexually, although he felt he was secure enough in his own masculinity that gay men really never bothered him, even when they hit on him. He would always wink and smile and let them down easily, telling them that "they were handsome but he didn't swing that way" and they usually would smile back a little regretfully, thinking what a waste it was that someone as pretty as Dean was straight.

So, if he wasn't gay, what was all this shit with Sam then? Dean's mind worked the possibilities, but all he could come up with is that he had always loved Sam more than anything else, and now his love for him had changed and turned and it scared Dean so badly that his knees were shaking. Inside he knew there was no going back from this, no matter how quickly it had come up it was now running through his veins like heroin, an addiction to his own attraction to Sam.

When Sam's voice called out, Dean jumped and let out a squeak and he berated himself for acting like a little bitch.

"Dean, if you are getting a beer, can you bring me one, man?" A normal request, from his normal, not sick like him little brother.

Dean breathed in and out, just for a few more moments, evening out his heart rate before walking to the fridge and pulling out two beers.

He handed Sam's to him as he walked past, not daring to look Sam in the eye, afraid Sam might spot the lust in Dean's expression and justifiably freak out and kick Dean's ass, or laugh in his face. Either one would tear Dean to shreds.

He resumed his seat in the chair, and tried to tell himself it was because he didn't want to tip Sam off that something was wrong, but in the end admitting that he just wanted to have a reason to stare at Sam. Fucking Sam with those hazel eyes just this side of green, that wavy mop of hair that he flicked out of his eyes every few minutes, that wide mouth just made for cocksucking, and just like that, Dean was hard again. Fuck me, he thought!

He tried to adjust himself to take some of the pressure of his stiffness from his zipper, but all that happened was his dick jumped as he grazed his own fingers down its length, and Dean barely managed to bite back a whimper.

Yeah, Dean Winchester, hunter, ladies man, tough sonofabitch, had whimpered because just staring at his hot younger brother made him rock hard and desperate. Awesome news.

He chugged from his bottle, his throat parched, his skin hot, his eyes as huge as headlights, and his gaze never left Sam. The curve of his spine, notches disappearing into the jeans, the curve of his ass, the flex in his shoulders and Dean was gone. He was just fucking gone.

_The first moment Sam had touched Dean (Dean is 20, Sam is 16)_

Sam had been half concentrating on painting the living room in the old house. Truthfully, he didn't give a shit about it, but he was tired of being alone with his thoughts about Dean and was determined that Dean was going to fucking notice him if it was the last thing he did!

So, Sam, who in his own head at 14 had realized that he loved Dean in a way that was wrong, was going to see if Dean could ever feel the same for him.

It had started one night in the back of the Impala as Dean had cradled an injured Sam and Sam had realized Dean was beautiful.

After that, he caught himself staring too long at Dean, watching his lips as he talked, and realized with a sinking feeling he wanted to touch, lick, bruise those lips. He would grow hard at the littlest thing, a cheesy grin flung at him from across a motel room, a pat on the head, Dean stretching in the morning, his tshirt rucking up off his flat stomach.

Sam didn't know if he was gay, he hadn't really ever been attracted to anyone but Dean, but he didn't mind the idea of it. He just wished his fixation wasn't on his only brother, because it was fucking embarrassing and hopeless. He had self loathed for another year over it, before coming to the conclusion that his family was abnormal, and so really, Sam's feelings for Dean fit into this fucked up situation just as much as anything else did.

For the last couple of months, he had been sizing up his prey. There was not a prettier way to say it. Sam was desperate for it, wanting things he couldn't even name, couldn't explain, and all his thoughts centered around getting Dean to _see him, really see him_, finally.

If Dean hadn't been so fucking busy waxing poetic about Sam's chiseled chest in his own head, he probably would have recognized the calculating look Sam wore as he pulled off his shirt, followed by Sam's swift intake of air when he saw the look on Dean's face as his gorgeous green eyes had roamed Sam's naked torso.

Sam had just kept getting ready to paint, although his breathing was uneven and he was flushed and hot, just thinking of Dean's eyes on him, hungry.

He stretched and preened, giving his brother a show without Dean ever being the wiser, and when Dean had flew by him into the kitchen, although Sam had gave him an annoyed sounding 'dude' inside Sam was flying. Whatever the fuck he was doing to Dean, it was working. His heart beat crazily in his chest with the thought "now what?" repeating, because Sam, despite being handsome and tall and smart, had never even kissed anyone.

Not like he hadn't had chances, but to him, he couldn't just screw around with someone, knowing he would move on in weeks and leave them behind. Or at least, when he acknowledged his lack of interest in anyone sexually, that is what he told himself. But now he had to admit to himself that really, since becoming sexually aware, his only thoughts were of Dean and no one else really "did" it for him. Just Dean.

Dean had returned to the living room and flung himself into the chair and Sam had been more than happy to have his attention once again. He had stretched up to reach the top of the wall with the paint roller and had been rewarded with a barely muffled gasp and the sound of Dean adjusting himself in the chair. He bit back a smile and kept painting, his mind humming with the new possibility that maybe, just once, Sam Winchester was really going to get his heart's desire.

OOOOooooOOOO

I can see this story is getting some hits, but only one review, so if you want more of this, drop me a line and tell me so (blackmail, its whats for breakfast) !


	4. Chapter 4

Moments Chapter 4

**Summary: Life is a series of moments that you breathe through, unless they take your breath away. These are those moments for the Winchester brothers.**

**Disclaimer: I wish, but no, I don't own the characters of Supernatural**

**WINCEST Warning: (at some point because I am disturbed that way**)

**Please take the time to review if you are reading. **

_Still the moment Sam first touches Dean (Dean is 20, Sam is 16)_

Sam had kept painting for another hour, his mind buzzing with the knowledge that Dean was looking at him, that Dean was looking at him THAT WAY, the way Sam always looked at Dean.

He calculated his next move, and smiled to himself. He knew Dean was probably freaking out inside, and he didn't want Dean to have to go through the self flagellation he himself had suffered through when his sexual feelings for Dean had surfaced.

Dean left the room saying he was going to start dinner and Sam quickly cleaned up the paint supplies and stood back for a second, admiring his work, trying to muster the courage to confront Dean. He second guessed himself for a few minutes, debated, argued with himself, wondering if maybe he was wrong, had he misread the signs, what if Dean rejected him? Sam didn't think he could bear it.

Shaking off his doubts, he squared his shoulders and went into the kitchen. Dean's back was to him, scrubbing potatoes at the sink, and Sam just admired him for a moment. God, Dean was so freaking hot. Short, dirty blonde spiky hair, catching late afternoon sunlight coming through the kitchen window, broad shoulders displayed in a dark blue t-shirt, perfect ass in worn out jeans, he made Sam's mouth water.

Clearing his throat and laughing a little to himself when he saw Dean jump a little bit, he shouldered in beside Dean, moving the tap to the other sink and making a show of washing his hands, all the while making sure his hip touched Dean and his shoulder brushed against his brother. Dean's ears went pink and he edged away slightly, but Sam used his long limbs against him, slyly bringing himself closer to Dean.

Dean didn't speak just went to the other side of the kitchen to the cutting board on the counter beside the fridge and began to chop the potatoes. Sam sidled up beside him, not speaking, acting like it was totally normal to stare at your brother for no reason at all.

His moment came a minute later, when Dean finally glanced at him and said, "What the fuck Sam?"

Sam crowded into Dean, forcing his back against the counter, his long arms trapping Dean on each side, his legs spread apart so Dean couldn't duck and run.

Dean's eyes were panicked and huge, and Sam smiled at him, a slow, sexy, dirty smile, his head bowing really really close, and he let his own eyes fall to Dean's full lips. He almost moaned thinking of the things he wanted to do to those lips, what he wanted to have done to HIM with those lips.

Dean was almost vibrating with nervous energy and his flicked his tongue out over his lips, and Sam could see Dean trying to think of something, anything to say, but Sam didn't want to hear it. He leaned down and pressed his lips against Dean's.

He had imagined it hundreds of times, brought himself to orgasm with just this mental image in his head, but it was nothing like he had ever pictured.

Dean's hands came up to Sam's bare chest and flattened as if he might push Sam away and Sam's pulse stuttered at the contact. But Dean didn't push him. He just left his hands there and sighed softly to himself and Sam took the opportunity that Dean's open lips presented and licked his way into his brothers mouth.

His tongue undid Dean, and Sam swallowed Dean's gasp, deepening the kiss. Dean was now fully kissing him back, his own tongue colliding with Sam and his hands fell away from Sam's chest to his hips, and Dean suddenly, forcefully, pulled Sam flush to his own length.

That was it for Sam, who moaned into Dean's mouth at the feel of Dean's hard cock against himself and running on pure instinct he rubbed himself against Dean. Dean's fingers dug into his hips hard, and Sam whimpered at the delicious pain, trying to move himself even closer, like he was trying to crawl inside of his brother.

It was out of control so fast, neither of them could slow down, when Sam's hand had slipped down between them and he palmed Dean's cock through his jeans, Dean had hissed, "fuck" and pushed up into his brothers hand almost violently. Dean's hands went to Sam's baggy jeans and ripped them open, his hand diving in and grabbing Sam's weeping cock with one hand, while the other shoved Sam's jeans off his hips. Sam mirrored Dean's actions and soon they both had their pants around their ankles, rubbing each other fast, hard, desperate while their lips were never separated.

Dean's hand was calloused and hard and he jerked Sam relentlessly and Sam tried to keep up but the sensations were too much and his knees almost buckled under him as he felt the orgasm rip through him, filling Dean's hand. He groaned and panted into Dean's mouth, riding the waves of pleasure and he felt Dean's cock stiffen impossibly harder before Dean yelled, "Sam," and came all over Sams hand and himself.

Their mouths were still fused together in an endless kiss and Sam didn't want to let go, didn't want it to ever end. So when Dean finally pulled away, his eyes clearing of the lusty fog that had been there only minutes before, replaced by uncertainty, fear and confusion, Sam had sighed.

Dean was going to make it weird now, he just fucking _knew_ it.

_The moment Dean tried to make it weird_

Dean's head was aching he was so confused. What the hell had just happened? Had it actually happened? The evidence was in his pushed down pants, his brother's come on his hand, and the fact that Sam's lips were still melded to Dean's mouth. Yep, it happened.

Dean tried to track the events leading up to this moment inside his head and he had tried, really tried to just be normal with Sam, but he must have given himself away somehow.

When Sam's lips had first touched his, Dean had meant to push him away, despite the throb of desire that had pierced him, but touching Sam's bare chest, flushed and warm had made Dean pause for a moment, sighing lightly at the feel of Sam underneath his fingers and Sam had put his tongue in Dean's mouth and Dean had felt like someone set him on fire.

Kissing Sam had been better than kissing anyone in his life, soft yet forceful lips, velvet tongue, and the taste was uniquely Sam. Dean had hardened immediately and unthinkingly pulled Sam closer, and that was it. Control shattered, rational thought escaping him, and all he could do was feel and need and respond. God, it had been so fucking hot, how could he have known it was going to feel so fucking good? Just thinking about it was making him hard again, and frantically he broke the kiss, pulling back from Sam.

His eyes met Sam's and Dean sucked a deep breath in, thinking about how fucked they both were. It was one thing for him to have just realized that he had the hots for the kid, but what the fuck was Sam doing?

Sam's eyes never left Dean's and it scared the shit out of Dean just a little bit that Sam looked so calm. Why wasn't he freaking out about this shit?

Dean cleared his throat, stalling for time as he thought about what to say, and Sam broke eye contact just long enough to roll his eyes.

"Don't make it weird, Dean."

That shut Dean up before he said a word. Make it weird? Sam was worried that NOW it was going to get weird? They had just made out and jacked each other off in their kitchen, did it actually GET weirder than that, Dean wondered?

Sam bent to pull up his boxers and pants, and as he zipped and buttoned them, he looked down at Dean, a look of pure satisfaction coating his perfect face.

Dean still had his pants down, and he was stunned silent by Sam telling him to NOT make it weird, and so he just stared dumbly at Sam.

Sam sighed softly, his face breaking into a big smile as his big hands came up to Dean's face and cradled his jaw.

Sam spoke softly, reverently, "That was the best moment of my life, you are so fucking hot, Dean, wanna have you like this all the damn time now. Won't be able to think of anything else, makes me hard just thinking of the next time."

He leaned in and kissed Dean slowly, a sexy, dizzying kiss that assaulted Dean's senses, and once again, Dean was responding, because, well holy fuck it seemed like Sam's mouth had been made for Dean's and without realizing it, Dean fisted his hands in Sams soft hair pulling him closer again.

Sam broke the kiss first, panting slightly and resting his forehead against Deans own. The words he spoke next gave Dean chills down his spine while lighting a fire in his stomach and burning a path right to his dick.

Sam's soft voice wisped into Dean's mind like smoke, marking all the parts of his brain it touched. "Wanted this for so long man, you don't even know. Couldn't stop thinking about you, can't believe you feel the same fucking way."

Dean found his own voice, but cringed inwardly hearing it, all fucked out, and threaded with desire. "Sam, we shouldn't-"

Sam shut him up with another soul wrecking kiss, shaking his head back and forth. When they broke apart, Sam spoke again.

"Yeah we should Dean. All this shit we do in our lives, I question all of it, the hunting, moving around, stolen credit cards, hustling, all the time, I wonder if its right. But this here," he said, gesturing between them, "no question this should happen, a lot, as much as possible, only thing that's ever felt _right_ in my whole life."

Kind of hard to argue with that logic, so Dean shrugged, said, "Fuck it," and brought Sam's lip back to his.

OOOOooooOOOO


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary: Life is a series of moments that you breathe through, unless they take your breath away. These are those moments for the Winchester brothers.**

**Disclaimer: I wish, but no, I don't own the characters of Supernatural**

**WINCEST Warning: (at some point because I am disturbed that way**)

**Please take the time to review if you are reading. Seriously now, I mean, if you have the time to add it as a fave story, you can probably review it.**

_The moment Dean realized he was in love with Sam (Dean is 21, Sam is almost 18)_

Sitting back on his heels, feeling hard gravel crunching under his knees, Dean wants to punch this motherfucking bitch of a Ford that will NOT allow itself to be fixed. He had gotten a straight mechanic job for a few months, since his Dad had ordered him to stay put with Sam while Sam finished up his last few months of high school. Dean knew Sam was happy to not have to move again before graduating, and Dean didn't mind being home with Sam alone, but he did miss the hunt.

Dean is really aware that its wrong to be having kinda sex with his younger brother. For over a year. As often as possible. That first time in the kitchen had led to a second time in their bedroom an hour later and a third time, completely naked together in the shower. And holy fuck, how hot was that shit? In the shower, it had been Dean as the aggressor, pushing Sam's naked body up against the cool tile, Dean pressing hot kisses and bites down Sam's chest as they both panted heavily into the steamy air. Dean had fallen to his knees then and directed Sam's cock into his mouth without a moment of hesitation and the second he had a taste of Sam on his tongue, he had closed his eyes, letting lust and instinct take over. Sam had jerked forward into Dean's mouth reflexively, his hands tangling in Dean's short hair, words tumbling from his lips as he flicked his wet bangs out of his eyes, moaning and crying and begging Dean to suck him, don't stop, holy fuck Dean, omygodohmygodohmygod, and when Dean had pushed Sam all the way down his throat, Sam had screamed his name so loud, banged his head against the tile and fucked into Dean's mouth mindlessly. Dean's eyes had flown open then, staring up at Sam as he broke the younger man apart with his mouth, watching the orgasm rise up on Sam's face and shatter him into a million pieces. There was nothing fucking hotter than Sam when he was coming and Dean was shocked to feel his own dick pulse as he orgasmed, getting off just from the taste of Sam coming into his mouth, and Sam's face. Dean had greedily swallowed down everything Sam gave him, finding himself milking Sam's softening dick for more.

Anyhow, so he knows its wrong, well he knows OTHER people would think its wrong, but he has dealt with the guilt and the bullshit regarding his unnatural lust for his little brother. He wanted Sam, Sam wanted him, and that was that. The almost sex was so much better than any full on sex Dean had ever experienced. Sam's big hands, his long legs, those fucking dimples, and his gorgeous cock, and Dean knew he didn't need anyone else. Just Sam.

He adjusted himself absently, thoughts of Sam as usual making him semi-hard in under a second. He wondered vaguely why he hadn't tired of the sex with Sam yet, why it still felt so hot, so intense, so MUCH even after a year of constant making out. Was everyone like this? He himself had never been with another person besides Sam for longer than two or three rounds, so he didn't have an experience to go on. Hmmm…something to think about. He forces his mind back to the task of fixing the ford that is being a bitch, because he just wants to finish and go home and be with Sam.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Hours later, just as the blood orange sun is slipping from sky, Dean pulls the Impala in front of the house and jumps out, eager to see Sam.

He bounds up the stairs of the ramshackle apartment building, fumbling his keys and grinning crazily to himself at his own excitement as he approaches the paint peeled door of Apartment #8, the 8 slanting sideways into almost an infinity sign. As he is about to jam his key into the worn lock he hears voices inside and freezes for an instant, his instincts forcing his motions to become quiet and stealthy. He cracks open the door without making a sound and peers in.

Sam is seated on the orange threadbare couch and there is a short red headed girl with abundant breasts that Dean notices right away because she doesn't have her fucking top on, and she is leaning over Sam and Sam is leaning away from her. It does not seem to be sending the proper message because she is now pressing her lips onto Sam's and Dean watches as Sam's big hands come up to her arms, forcing her back. The girl sits back down in a huff, glaring at Sam and saying, "Whats your problem Sam?"

Neither had noticed Dean yet and so he stands half in the doorway, feeling like a voyeur, only his heart is lodged in his throat because he is so fucking jealous, he feels violent. Violent like he can picture himself grabbing her by all that red hair and pushing her and her big tits down the fucking stairs because Sam is DEAN's and nobody touches Sam but him.

His head starts to swim a little, the feelings are almost too much to bear and he bites on his own tongue hard, feeling a small amount of blood pool in his mouth, bringing him back to the moment.

Sam is speaking, softly but forcefully.

"Sorry Tina, but I can't. Not that I don't like you, just not in that way. I am kinda…kinda seeing someone else."

The girl is pulling her shirt over her head and her face is almost as red as her hair as she snorts, "Who are you seeing Sam?"

Sam rubbed his hand through his hair nervously and chewed on his bottom lip, all signs Dean knew were Sam getting ready to tell a lie. A big one.

"It just this guy that I have known for a while, but its serious, and were are….monogamous." The last word had been spoken softly, and Dean tensed, because he realized at that moment that Sam wasn't really sure if they were monogamous. They had never talked about it, and the fact that Dean had been such a slut before he and Sam had started messing around probably gave Sam some doubts. Dean cursed himself inwardly for not telling Sam sooner that he was being faithful. He could have fucking lost Sam just because he talked more with his fucking hands and dick than with his mouth. He fucking SUCKED as a boyfriend.

Oh my fucking God, I am Sam's boyfriend, Dean realized. Why hadn't he realized that sooner? What the fuck does THAT mean anyhow? Oh fuck me, I am Sam's boyfriend and I fucking KNOW I am going to suck at being a boyfriend, I am going to hurt him or something. Oh fuck fuck fuck, shit shit shit. Dean wanted to stomp his feet, pitch a fit, have a tantrum. Why was he so fucking stupid that he was just NOW getting all this?

He didn't have time to answer that because the girl, Tina, the red haired bitch with the huge tits was screeching, "Your GAY?"

Sam smiled a bit and said, "Ummm, yeah I guess so, I don't really know. I mean, I have only been with this one guy, so I don't know if that means gay or…." And he trailed off because Sam really didn't know if he was gay or just gay for Dean.

The girl was suddenly moving, her arms gathering the homework spread around her (her ploy to be alone with Sam, help with her Trig assignment) while she kept her mouth going a mile a minute. "Can't fucking believe the hottest guy in school is fucking gay, and I didn't realize it, and I came onto him and look like an idiot now-" Her voice cracked and Dean watched Sam grab her hand and pull her to sit back down gently, a soft smile on his lips, reassuring, sweet, pure Sam.

"Tina, you are beautiful, and smart and amazing, and just about everything any guy would want. Maybe if things were different, I would want you too, but the way things are, I just can't, because I am in love with someone else. "

Dean watched Tina's face soften at Sam's words, a small smile playing on her lips as she looked up at Sam through her eyelashes. "You think I'm beautiful?"

Sam chuckled softly and said, "Of course, everyone thinks that about you."

Tina glanced down a little and said, "So your in love huh? For real? Whats he like?" She was curious, Sam was her first gay friend (cause obviously the boy is gay if he has a boyfriend) and she is curious and sorta happy, because Sam is really cute and the only reason he doesn't like her is because he has a boyfriend and is gay, so now she has her first gay guy friend and that makes her feel a little cosmopolitan.

Sam smiled the sweetest smile, looking up at the ceiling through his heavy bangs, biting his lip as he said, "Ummm, I don't know, I mean hes really gorgeous and funny, and smart, and tough, like once I saw him beat the shit out of three guys. It was really hot. Anyhow. He takes really good care of me, and has the biggest-" Sam broke off and his face went cherry red and when his eyes met Tina's they both busted out laughing.

"OOOHHHHHHH," she said, "I get it." She leaned forward to grab her things again and spotted Dean, finally. "uh, hey," she called, curious.

Dean cleared his throat and stepped in saying, "Hey, sorry to interrupt guys, how was school Sammy?" He tried to avoid eye contact and walked past the living room feeling both teenagers eyes follow him. "God I need a beer."

"Who's that?" He heard Tina whisper dramatically to Sam and he felt his ears redden.

"That's my brother, Dean, he just got off work. I guess I better get dinner going," Sam implied walking her to the door.

"He's really hot, does he have a girlfriend?" He heard Tina ask, and he heard Sam's reply, a little hoarse and a little snappish.

"Yes."

Tina sighed and said, "Figures, ok , see ya at school Sam," and walked out the apartment door.

Dean heard Sam shuffling papers around in the living room, obviously not in a hurry to face Dean and Dean practiced his Lamaze breathing because clearly he was a big fucking girl. Not only had he not realized that Sam was his boyfriend, but he hadn't even realized Sam was in love with him. Dean operated at a pretty basic level, and his love for Sam was just one of those levels, so it was hard to pinpoint his love being any different than it always had been. He loved Sam the most, always had, always fucking would. Dean already knew that. Was that what in love meant? He thought back to a few minutes before, when he had been ready to beat up a teenage girl for touching Sam and he hung his head. Yeah, that was fucking IN LOVE for you. Didn't get more whipped, more punk ass than that, he thought to himself angrily. Great, he was IN LOVE with Sam. Why did it feel different now that he knew that, like he was desperate, needy, overheated? He didn't have the answer to that.

Sam finally came to stand in the doorway of the tiny kitchen, regarding Dean with a puzzled look on his face. "What's wrong Dean."

Dean didn't realize he said it until after he puked the words at Sam projectile-style. "IaminlovewithyoutooSam."

Yeah that was romantic. Not desperate or lame or fucking gay AT ALL. He cursed himself inwardly for about ten seconds as he watched Sam's face transform and he threw himself into Dean's arms, kissing Dean's lips, cheeks, eyes, neck, everything he could touch. Dean's arms went around Sam instinctively, pulling him closer, his lips finding every spare piece of Sam they could as he mumbled over and over again, "I fucking love you Sam, so much."

And that. Well that was kinda romantic.

_The moment Sam breaks Dean's heart_

Sam had stood tall in the small kitchen, crowded by his father and Dean as he said the words.

"I got a full scholarship to Stanford and I want to go."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Please review, it gives me the strength to continue. Plus, it pisses me off to see people adding the story to their favorites and not bothering to review.


	6. Chapter 6

Moments Chapter 6

**Summary: Life is a series of moments that you breathe through, unless they take your breath away. These are those moments for the Winchester brothers.**

**Disclaimer: I wish, but no, I don't own the characters of Supernatural**

**WINCEST Warning: (at some point because I am disturbed that way**)

**Please take the time to review if you are reading. **

_The moment Sam thinks Dean will never forgive him (Sam is 22, Dean is 26)_

Sam headed home from the library thinking about his LSAT score, smiling secretly to himself, knowing he had done well, knowing that he had a really good chance to be attending Stanford Law School next fall if the meeting on Monday went well.

Walking swiftly, his long legs eating up the pavement, he grimaced at the garish Halloween decorations that had been placed around campus. He really hated Halloween and he knew that Jess was going to make him go out tonight.

Jess. Beautiful, soft, supportive, wonderful, Sam knew he was lucky to have found her. She kept the heartbreak at bay. She kept the normal he craved within striking distance. So maybe he wasn't always honest with her, but telling her about his fucked up family wasn't really an option. And maybe he thought of someone else once in a while when they were having sex, but before Jess, Sam had only had one other sex partner, who wasn't even female. And maybe he knew that he fancied himself in love with the idea of her more than actually her. But she never seemed to mind, and it was easy for Sam to push away his guilt and uncertainty when she gazed up at him with adoration clear in her eyes. She made Sam feel safe. And normal. The two things he always thought he wanted most.

Sam Winchester is a smart guy, his LSAT scores prove that, but when it comes to being honest with himself? Not so much. Being so smart means he knows every thought he has, he knows his lies, his compensations, his own questionable morality. But Sam has figured out a way to make it all work in the chambers of his own mind, he is able to systematically shut down certain ones that make him hurt, make him uncomfortable, make him question, only laying bare the thoughts he allows himself to acknowledge.

So, he doesn't think of his past, he doesn't think of the brother that he left behind, the heartbreak that sits in his chest every day, the feeling of wrong that comes from desperately trying to fit into a life that he isn't cut out for. He only thinks of his cookie cutter future, and he pretends that its what he desires. Because SAM did this. Sam made his choices, and because he is Sam, he refuses to entertain the idea that his choices might have been the wrong ones.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Being back in the Impala is like coming home for Sam and he inhales the smell of worn leather, fast food, and Dean's cologne through his nose quietly, closing his eyes to the memories they invoke.

He is still too shaken by recent events to look at Dean straight on, so he slumps in the shotgun seat, shattered, confused and completely unable to keep up pretenses.

When Dean had shown up in his apartment a few days ago, Sam's light had switched on. If Jessica was a candle in the window of Sam's heart, then Dean was a huge fucking spotlight. The moment he had laid eyes on Dean again, all the bullshit Sam had tried so desperately to sell himself about Stanford and Jessica and normal had flown out the window and the gates of Sam's carefully constructed lie of a world had been torn away.

Sam really didn't give a shit that Dad was missing, let's face it, the old man was nuts and this was probably a huge manipulation on his part. Just one of the many he had orchestrated during Sam's twisted childhood. But seeing Dean again had stripped away Sam's pretenses, leaving Sam with the aching knowledge that the only thing that was real and felt right, was that he got to be with Dean again. He didn't care that it wouldn't last, that he would be back in his lie of a normal life in a few days.

They had fell back into partnership seamlessly, and the weight that sat on Sam's chest for the last few years had almost completely melted away as he basked in Dean's company. They had dispatched the lady in white together, rescued Dad's journal and Dean had immediately headed back to Stanford, eager to rid himself of Sam.

And Sam couldn't blame him. Whatever pain he felt over the last four years of separation was undoubtedly tenfold for his brother. Dean, who had stood stoically in the kitchen as Sam fought with his Dad about going to college, tears glistening in his eyes. Dean who had shoved a wad of filthy bills and a crumpled up note in Sam's backpack before hugging him fiercely, and walking away quickly, leaving Sam standing in the dim glow of the bus station sign, his own face sodden with unstoppable tears. Dean who had never once called, as he had promised Sam in the crumpled up note. Dean who didn't do chick flick moments, but had sat down and in his own scritchy handwriting, laid himself out for his younger brother one last time, before telling him goodbye.

_Sam,_

_I won big at a poker game the other night, so this money is just in case. Don't get all excited bitch, its only $200. But you might need it for something._

_Really proud of you Sammy, I know you will do great things. I always knew you weren't meant for this life, you always were a little too good, a little too smart for it. _

_I am going to miss you so much man, but its for the best, or at least that is what I am trying to tell myself. I ain't gonna call or bother you while your at school, but if you ever need me, you know how to reach me. _

_Remember your training and don't be stupid, you know what's out there even if you want to pretend its not. _

_I know how much you needed to leave Sam, but I wish you had loved me back enough to stay. That's ok, I love you enough for both of us. _

_Your big brother, Dean_

Sam had read Dean's letter over so many times, kept it folded in his wallet until it was so worn it fell apart one day as he unfolded it to read it once more. Even then Sam had carefully held the pieces together, big fat tears dropping on the now faded ink.

So he understood why Dean had wanted to get him gone, and Sam had played along pretending that Stanford and Jessica were what he still wanted.

The fire, Jessica, it was all a blur, and Sam knew the guilt that was tugging in his belly was a result of his reaction. Yeah, Jessica pinned to the ceiling, her death a horrible replay of his childhood tragedy had devastated him, but the moment he had heard Dean yelling his voice, Sam's heart had flipped, because Dean hadn't left, he was there, he was coming for him, and instead of being mortally wounded at the horrific sight of the girl he loved being flambéed on the ceiling, Sam had reacted stronger to Dean not leaving him. So, yeah, Sam fucking HATES himself for that.

Now he sits in the passenger side of the car that his brother has loved and cared for since his Dad passed it down to him when Dean was 18, and he loathes himself. Dean hasn't said much, he doesn't know the truth, he thinks Sam is in shock over Jessica, so he just throws concerned glances towards Sam now and again, and keeps the mullet rock notched at 11 so they don't have to force conversation.

What is there to say, Sam thinks to himself? He had walked away from Dean, left him heartbroken, let him think that he wasn't important enough to Sam to stay for. And he knows no matter how much time passes, Dean will never forgive him.

_The moment Dean realizes Sam is never going to leave him again. Because Sam loves him too._

Dean had tried. He had. Four years of misery, four years of loneliness, four years of throwing himself into whatever destructive behavior he could find. Four years of holding back from making begging, drunken phone calls for Sam to love him, four years of pretending that anything else in the world mattered but Sam. He hadn't cracked, not once. But man, he had been tempted. With Dad going missing, Dean had known that it was the loosest possible thread he could cling to as a valid reason to go to Sam, but the truth was, he was worn down. Four years of heartbreak does that to a man.

Being back with Sam was like the most exquisite torture Dean could ever imagine inflicting on himself. He feels like a stranger in his own body, his skin tighter, his eyes huge, his lips constantly flickering as if they have no idea what shape to take. Because Dean is in heaven with Sam beside him again, but Dean's heaven is now Sam's hell. Because Sam had loved Jess and she had died and now Sam was full on mourning and all Dean is to him is a vessel of revenge, and a reminder of a life Sam had tried to leave behind.

So maybe Dean shouldn't have been so happy to be with him, but he couldn't help it, his heart had been starved for so long, and just Sam sitting beside him in the car was an all you can eat buffet.

Months had flown by, and Dean had fallen into a comfortable routine of being lovesick, tortured and achingly hard constantly. The love of his life sat a mere two feet away from him as they ate up the never ending highways stretched before them. No matter how close they sat, Dean was hyper aware that they were still miles apart in almost every other way.

The small dingy hotel in Spears, Idaho is as non descript as you can get, although thankfully cleaner than most, with an old fashioned diner attached to it. The red blinking sign welcomes them to the Najavo Motor Inn and hopes they enjoy their stay.

Sam enters the room first, his shoulders high and tense and Dean takes a moment to reflect on the man Sam has become. When he had left for Stanford, Sam had still been a slightly gangly teenager, but four years had added meat to his bones, a grace to his stride and awareness to his flinty eyes. Dean had thought Sam was beautiful before Stanford, but the Sam he had picked up there was almost painfully so. Age had only highlighted the perfection of Sam.

Dean sighs at his own lameness, well aware that despite his outside cockiness, his traitorous heart and mind created more chick flick moments than Julia Roberts. Sam had evidently heard Dean's sigh and turned to him questioningly, but Dean avoided eye contact and threw his bag down harder than necessary.

He slumped down the bed and felt his shoulders cave in, the weariness and stress of the road once again taking its toll. He knew he was close to breaking and he was almost past caring.

Sam's spoken "Whats up with you?" is almost his undoing.

"Nothin man, just tired." It came out gruff, rawer than he had meant, but again, he was past the point of making all of this easier for Sam. Why the fuck should he?

Sam hadn't replied to Dean's admission of tired, he just place his bag quietly on his bed and began to unpack a few things. Dean watched him from the corner of his eye, feeling a sense of longing pulse through his body that had him standing before his brain even realized his body had moved.

He stood mid step, almost falling off balance, his instincts drawn towards Sam while his brain is screaming at him to stop and Sam looks over at him again, this time with an unfathomable expression in his clear, hazel eyes.

Dean stumbles slightly, catches himself, pulls back and regroups. He brushes his hand across the back of his own head absently, slicing his eyes to the side, away from Sam and that damn look on his face and speaks.

"Lets find a burger and a bar man."

He doesn't look at Sam again, but he sees the younger man nod out of the corner of his eye as he turns to unpack his bag once more.

OOOOOooooOOOO

Sitting across from Sam in a booth at what could be in the running for the seediest joint they had ever been in, Dean finds himself looking at everything but Sam. His eyes wander to the various neon beer and liquor signs scattered across the room, noting in particular, the flickering Michelob sign actually read M ch l b and Dean thinks to himself, buy a vowel for fuck sakes. There is a red and white Budweiser sign hanging rather slanted over their booth and buzzing and Dean hopes it doesn't actually fall on them, but he perceives it as something that could actually happen.

He has taken off his jacket and his bare forearms are almost stuck to the laminated wooden table and he feels himself recoil a bit with disgust at the feeling. Clearly Sam had noticed the table as well, and had pulled out a wet nap (and seriously who the hell carries a wet nap in their pocket except Sam) and he is scrubbing the table in front of him. Dean wants to think that is such a lame move but the only word that comes to mind is adorable, so he sighs and glances away, taking a huge swig of his beer.

"Dean." He glances over at Sam and sees him proffering the wet nap for Dean to use and Dean snorts, because real men don't wipe the table in a bar, or at least that is his persona for the night. He just gives Sam his best, 'Aren't you a fussy one?' stare and looks away again.

Yeah, tonight is all sorts of awkward, and it shouldn't be, because they have been traveling together for months again, but tonight something was in the air, and it wasn't just the smell of spilled beer, stale cigarettes and cheap perfume. It was like they were balanced on the edge of a cliff, any moment, one or both of them were going to slip and the fall out was going to be larger than either of them were ready for.

So excuse the fuck out of Dean but suddenly the beer isn't quite cutting it and he gives Sam a raised eyebrow and one word. "Whiskey?"

Sam nods, because its just that kind of night.

Dean gets up from the table and heads to the bar, grateful for the chance to have a few minutes to breathe away from Sam. He considers throwing himself a little pity party about his plight in life, and really, he could do it, lonely, miserable, scarred emotionally and physically is way too many ways to count and of course, his mind boggling twisted love for his brother. He doesn't really have time for a whole party so he just lets all the thoughts streak through his mind just once, and he punctuates the last one with an 'oh woe is me' and lets it go. It isn't going to get better any time soon, so he might as well try to deal.

He approaches the long bar, and leans against it heavily, letting it take all his weight for a long moment, as he waits for the bartender to notice him. Strains of Toby Keith "As Good as I Once Was" are crackling out of an ancient sound system, and Dean barely registers the person stepping up beside him, lightly swaying to the song.

Dean gets a whiff of cologne and feels an arm press against his and his instincts have him darting his eyes to the side to look at the man who was touching him. He is looking right at Dean, evaluating and measuring him, and Dean feels himself blush slightly under the intense scrutiny.

Dean gets a lot of attention from men and women, always has, but since Sam he has never been with another man. He figured that probably didn't make him gay, he was just unlucky enough to only feel true love for one guy. He had considered it after Sam left for Stanford, wondering if he should try out another man to see if he did prefer them, but he hadn't met anyone who turned his crank enough to bother with.

The man standing beside him now is handsome, light hair, blue eyes, honey colored skin, and a great smile, which was directed at Dean.

Dean is starting to itch a bit under the gaze so he says, "Do something for you man?" And ok so THAT fucking came out totally wrong, didn't it? Dean represses the urge to look back at the booth and Sam.

The man's smile never falters as he says, "I just wanted to introduce myself to the best looking guy I have ever seen in here before. I'm Craig Wheeler." He holds out his hand expectantly, an eyebrow raised with a silent challenge and Dean takes it in his own briefly before releasing it.

Craig flashes white teeth at Dean and bumps his shoulder, saying, "Buy you a drink?"

Dean doesn't answer right away. Seconds tick into the air as he gazes at the man for a long moment.

"Sure man, why not. Jack, straight up." Dean didn't usually allow men to buy him drinks, but he was starved for attention and acceptance.

Clearly a regular, Craig gets the bartender's attention quickly and soon he and Dean both have a shot sitting in front of them. Craig holds his up in a salute to Dean and says, "To making new friends," and clinks his glass against Deans lightly.

They take their shots simultaneously and bang them back on the bar, grinning at one another, and Craig asks the inevitable question. "What brings you here?"

Dean strings together some bullshit about roadtripping the country and he and Craig fall into an easy conversation. Turns out, Craig runs a construction business, and is divorced with two kids. He is a nice guy, funny, attentive, warm and Dean wishes he could feel for anyone else but Sam, because this guy might be worth getting to know.

He doesn't realize how long he has been standing there, but he flinches imperceptibly the moment before the large hand comes down on his shoulder. His body always seemed to know Sam was close before his brain did.

"How long were you planning on leaving me there alone Dean?" Sam's voice is a low growl and it slides down Dean's body right into his crotch.

Dean looks at Sam and inhales quickly at the look on Sam's face. Dean thought he had seen every look Sam could ever have but he has never seen this.

Sam is standing taller than Dean has ever seen him. Normally Sam slouches in an effort to come across as non threatening, but not now. Now he is all of his 6'4 and his chest is puffed out, clearly outlined even under his flannel shirt. His hazel eyes are focused on Craig's face and Dean reads the words in Sam's expression, seeing 'mine' and 'possession' coming across more clearly than if he had spoken them. His mouth is twisted into a cruel smirk, a hunter sizing up his prey and finding it lacking. He was magnificent, and Dean's mouth went instantly dry.

Craig is staring at Sam and Dean looks at him now, Craig's face has paled, his inferiority obvious and exposed. Dean watches as Craig swallows with a click, not speaking, not moving, trapped in Sam's steely gaze.

Without taking his eyes off Craig, Sam squeezes Dean's shoulder and says, "C'mon man, let's get out of here."

Dean isn't ready to leave the bar, but in that instant, he is almost fearful of Sam, so he turns towards the door, picturing Sam giving Craig one last 'sorry about your luck fucker' look as he follows Dean. Once outside, Sam hands Dean his jacket and Dean puts it on without a word. In fact, not one word passes between them all the way back to the motel room.

SAM's POV

Sam's skin itched, like it was pulled to tight over his bones, and his mouth was dry. It shouldn't feel new and devastating, he felt this way pretty much constantly now that he was back with Dean.

The months had been long, fraught with everything unspoken between them. Sam longed to talk to Dean, really talk to him, explain about Stanford, explain how he felt, but Dean was so closed off to him, Sam wondered if they would ever have an honest conversation again. The idea they wouldn't made him feel sick.

So, he sat across from Dean in yet another depressing bar and wished things different but afraid to change them. It was all so fucking depressing, the hunting, the motels, the lack of companionship despite being someone's constant companion. It was wearing him down, he could feel it, stripping away his outer layers, laying him exposed and raw.

He watched Dean through lowered lashes as his brother made his way up to the bar, and he felt his face flush at the sheer want he felt. He wanted Dean so badly. Not just physically, although, yeah he really fucking wanted that, but mentally, emotionally. He wanted to strip Dean down to as weak as he felt, until Dean begged to tell Sam that he still loved him, craved him, needed him, his own feelings mirror images for Sam's own.

When the man first approached Dean, Sam had tracked it like any hunter would, assessing the man instinctively, not seeing a threat. Until he had leaned towards Dean and Sam caught the man's expression.

Sam had experienced jealousy and envy in his life, everyone did at some point or another, but what rose up in him at that moment was so strong, so primal, so rage encrusted, Sam could barely process it. He felt his lip curl and his heart rate pick up and the only word that he could think was "MINE". It raged in his head like a storm and without thought, he rose from the booth, snatched up Dean's jacket and stalked to the bar with the one single goal. To claim what was HIS.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

He followed Dean into the motel room, his testosterone still raging, his need still so great, that the moment he slammed the door behind him, he grabbed Dean by the jacket, hauled him backwards slamming him up against the wall, and growled in a voice he himself didn't recognize.

"Enough Dean. You're mine. You always have been. No matter what else happens, who you had, who I had, you belong to me. You should have remembered that. But I gotta say big brother," and with that Sam let a smirk fall onto his lips as he eyed Dean's mouth hungrily, "I don't mind reminding you of it."

With that he bent forward and pressed his mouth to Dean's. He felt Dean hesitate for only a moment, before his lips began to move frantically against Sam's, both hands fisting into Sam's hair painfully, his hardened length flush against Sam's own.

They stayed that way for minutes, mouths angry, hungry, seeking, and Sam finally pulled away panting, reaching for Dean's belt, tugging forcefully and muttered, "Mine."

As he undid his brothers jeans, he looked into Dean's eyes, and said it again, "Mine, Dean."

Dean's beautiful eyes shone in the blackness of the night, his perfect lips swollen by Sam's assault, color high on his cheekbones, and he replied with two words of his own.

"Show me."

And Sam did.


End file.
